Sorcerer’s Handbook

“O great Eternal Calamity, Selina Bright! Goodness follows you, evil admires you! Light yearns for you, and darkness also hopes for you! You are the being that transcends all, the hue that God has plated onto everything!”

As Ashe crawled out of the Body Bag, he saw countless Black Robe Cultists kneeling on the ground, their foreheads touching the earth, singing praises with fanatic voices. This familiar hymn almost triggered Ashe’s post-traumatic stress disorder.

Could it be that this hymn is the unified standard Version across the world?!

“I’m seriously starting to wonder if we’re all in this mess because of you, Ashe…” Harvey’s lamenting voice came from the side. He soon grunted in pain as a Black Robe Cultist stepped on his left arm, flattening it—not because the cultist was particularly forceful, but because Harvey’s left arm was missing a bone.

Last night, when they were ambushed by Gersas, the situation was desperate: Ashe had to halt, Langna and Ronald covered each other, and Igor lost a large chunk of flesh that still hadn’t healed. Harvey, however, seemed to have it easy; he threw a bone into the air, and the Shot Bullets aimed at his body, for some reason, veered off towards the bone as if the Necromancer was unaffected.

But during the lengthy car ride of the past several hours, Ashe had already noticed that Harvey’s left hand was almost completely useless, unable to even lift. Now it was clear that Harvey was probably the most severely injured among them—after all, Igor could regrow his flesh, but Harvey couldn’t regenerate his own bones.

It was likely that the Necromancy Faction had some Miracle for bone recovery, but as soon as Harvey transmigrated through the portal, he was fitted with a Collar, leaving him no chance to grow a new bone for his arm. It was like going to the Restroom only to find there’s no toilet paper and having to use one’s fingers, then coming out to realize the water’s been shut off.

The chains of the Black Robe figures entwined around the three of them like tentacles once again, lifting them up. Now, Ashe could finally observe their surroundings—the all too familiar underground hall!

In a grand underground hall, twice the size of a soccer field with a ceiling stretching up some ten meters high, the space was bright yet ancient under the glow of densely packed hanging fires. The walls were smooth and covered in bizarre, colorful murals that depicted scenes of brutality and debauchery: lines of people waiting for slaughter, six pairs of men and women engaged in a twisted, communal mating posture, hundreds spilling their blood to fill a swimming pool, and various Races in states of decay.

The vibrant colors combined with the utterly transgressive content should have been enough to shock and offend anyone. However, Ashe merely glanced at them without a hint of disgust, nor pleasure, simply considering them as regular pieces of art.

“Don’t look, it’s toxic,” Igor whispered softly. Ashe snapped back to reality—realizing that the moment he began to accept these strange aesthetics as normal art, he had been silently corrupted.

Only Igor, with his genuine set of professional aesthetics, recognized this abnormality. His refined eye for beauty was not something that Harvey and Ashe, with their lack of artistic culture—capable of admiring the shape of their own excrement post-evacuation—could comprehend.

The chains on the trio were tugged, and the Black Robe Man signaled for them to walk forward. Before Ashe was a narrow stone path over the water. Remarkably, this underground hall had a pond, and on either side of the stone path, there were four statues representing a valiant general, a refined middle-aged Scholar, a benevolent elder, and a pure young girl.

They obediently traversed the stone path. The believers, who had been singing hymns just moments before, suddenly fell silent, kneeling on the ground. Now, only the sound of their footsteps echoed in the hall.

As they approached the towering Silver Throne, the chains behind them jerked, forcing them to kneel as well.

“Are you the People from the Exotic Lands?”

A charming and naive voice floated from the Silver Throne, which had been facing away from them. The throne smoothly rotated to face them, and upon seeing who was seated upon it, Ashe and his companions’ faces registered shock.

Seated on the Silver Throne was a petite girl who appeared to be no older than ten, her silver-white hair highlighted with a tinge of wine-red, adding depth to the color. She was dressed in an adorable black dress with white frills, a gothic style that made her resemble a delicate doll.

However, the girl lacked both arms and legs.

She was like a doll dressed in an outfit yet to have its limbs attached, placed decoratively upon the Silver Throne.

The Silver Throne was equipped with two mechanical arms extending from it: the right arm held a steaming cup of beverage, and the left arm held a thin comic book. She seemed to be enjoying her afternoon tea while reading the comic.

“Yes, Eternal Calamity,” the Black Robe Man said, kneeling. “They have been confirmed as the People from the Exotic Lands through the Gospel.”

“Thank you for your hard work,” the little girl replied. “Then bring the other Sacrifices as well. The ritual is to commence immediately; the Four Pillars are growing impatient!”

“Yes!”

A fervent atmosphere quickly swept through the entire underground hall, even the hanging fires burned more fiercely. Ashe and his companions were tightly bound by chains, unable to break free, watching helplessly as the butcher sharpens his knife for the fish on the chopping board!

“Ashe!”

“Ashe…”

Harvey and Igor sent strong, clear signals, and Ashe’s face contorted with frustration, fully aware they saw him as their last hope for salvation.

After all, in their eyes, Heath might indeed be the Cult Leader of the Four Pillars Cult, and this place was also the domain of the Four Pillars. Surely, there couldn’t be two sets of Four Pillars Cult?

It was like mistaking a flood for a dragon king’s temple or Moonshadow for a desecrated grave of Blood Saint – not recognizing one’s own kin! Shouldn’t you, Ashe, hurry up to acknowledge your heritage, return gloriously as a Scholar studying abroad to the local branch of the Four Pillars Cult, and then quickly save us? If necessary, we’ll also believe in the Four Pillars Cult and commit some atrocious acts, as long as we survive first.

But Ashe knew his own circumstances; Heath might be the Cult Leader, but he certainly was not!

The Four Pillars might recognize him, but he did not recognize the Four Pillars!

Ashe’s knowledge of the Four Pillars Cult came solely from news reports; the Sin Hunter’s Hall knew more about the Four Pillars Cult than he ever did. Ashe had never spent a day as a Cult Leader; he couldn’t even pass for a counterfeit one. At best, he could be considered a Cult Leader in spirit.

Ashe did have thoughts of forging a closer connection with the Cult Leader here, but he didn’t understand the doctrines of the Four Pillars Cult, nor did he know any secret signals. Could he really convince the other party he was a fellow Cultist with just his words? Not everyone is as naive as Freya!

And there was another point. Although Ashe couldn’t quite remember the scene when he first transmigrated, he was certain that the Blood Moon division, whether in terms of the number of Followers, the size of the base, or the aura of the Leader, couldn’t hold a candle to this branch.

Even as branches of the same Four Pillars Cult, it was uncertain whether Eternal Calamity would be willing to accept a poor relative from the countryside. It was possible that the reaction would be more along the lines of, “You’re a branch Leader? Then we must treat you seriously,” followed by an array of torture devices to show the Four Pillars Cult that they indeed honored a visiting Leader, sending Ashe off properly.

But to simply wait for death was undoubtedly foolish. So, Ashe summoned his courage and raised his head to say, “Um, hello.”

“Hello,” Eternal Calamity replied politely, looking down at Ashe. “Is there something you need?”

Ashe decided to declare his Cult reputation and title: “I am the apocalypse observer, Ashe Heath.”

“I am Eternal Calamity, Selina Bright,” she responded, turning to Igor and Harvey, “Do you also wish to introduce yourselves?”

“No, what I mean is, I am also a Follower of the Four Pillars Cult,” Ashe said carefully. “I am the Leader of the Blood Moon Kingdom branch of the Four Pillars Cult. The Blood Moon Kingdom is the Exotic Land we come from.”

“Oh, is that so?” She seemed a bit surprised, giving Ashe a few glances. “But you seem like a nice person.”

Ashe’s face turned red with frustration — in everyone else’s eyes, he was an irredeemable Cult Leader, and no matter how many times he explained, no one believed he was a good person. Yet, when he told a Cult Leader that he was a fellow Cultist, she actually thought he seemed like a good person.

Jeez, can’t the world cut me a break? When a Cult Leader does something bad, he’s seen as a Cult Leader, but when a good person does something bad, they’re still seen as good. Even my company’s CEO isn’t this hypocritical!

Ashe tried to speak in a calm tone: “No, I really am a Leader of a Four Pillars Cult branch. I’m a bad person. I’ve been accused by the authorities of involvement in multiple kidnapping cases, murder cases, robbery cases, and other serious crimes. I was sentenced to the maximum penalty and only managed to escape from prison. Blood Moon has no place for me anymore, so I left to come here.”

Eternal Calamity cocked her head, a cute curve forming on her brow: “Then prove it to me.”

“Prove it?”

A mechanical arm withdrew a dagger from the folds of her skirt and threw it to the ground in front of Ashe. The chains around him suddenly vanished, and although still collared, he could move freely.

“I don’t know what they mean to you, but if you are a favored kin of the Four Pillars Cult, then to you, they should be considered suitable Sacrifices to offer to the Four Pillars,” Eternal Calamity said calmly. “Torture them as much as you can, break them down, fill them with despair, and delight them with pain, but do not kill them.”

“This should be as simple for you as getting dressed or eating, right, apocalypse observer?”

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